


You Gave Me a Garden

by saradise48



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Communication Through Flowers, Dumb boys being dumb, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14278578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saradise48/pseuds/saradise48
Summary: Ebs burst out laughing when Mat got back to the tattoo shop exactly fifteen minutes after he had left, his sketchpad untouched and with the addition of a bouquet of orchids that would be dead by the time they got to his mom on the other side of the fucking continent.“Barz, you’re fucking hopeless.”





	You Gave Me a Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that GOD AWFUL photo of Mat in all black that the Islanders decided they wanted to attack me personally with that you can find [here](https://twitter.com/NYIslanders/status/981993154080657418)

Mat was one almost botched flower piece being saved by Ebs at the last second away from losing his station in the tattoo shop. If he was being honest, though, this entire thing was entirely Ebs’ fault to begin with, for not teaching him how to draw a fucking realistic flower in the first place when Mat was still his apprentice. And really, it was Ebs’ fault, too, for the situation Mat was in now. 

As it stood he had two options. The first was to pass off any piece he got from here on out that had a flower in it. The second was much less likely because it involved the florist next door that was owned by one of the cutest guys Mat had ever seen in his life. 

When Mat said cute, he meant it. This guy owned a _florist_ , for fuck’s sake, he was the epitome of the Brooklyn hipster culture Mat refused to buy into. And while Mat had only ever longingly glanced through the window when he passed by his store to get to the shop—and he’d never admit to it out loud if under pressure—he was kind of obsessed. 

_Anyway_ , his second option was to go over and ask to loiter for a few hours so Mat could sketch and actually learn the difference between a calla lily and daylily without google deep diving into the world of botany for three hours like he had last week. But like he said, that was kind of out of the realm of possibility. Mat wasn’t even sure he would be able to get out a full sentence without making a fool of himself somehow. 

So as it stood now, he was pretty much going to lose his job. Mat was slowly coming to terms with it—mostly with the fact that he wouldn’t get to see his florist boy everyday anymore. 

That was until Ebs basically ordered him to go over and learn how to draw a fucking flower without using the light box to trace a copy of a photo he found in a cursory google search. 

Mat could totally do that. 

It wasn’t like he had been working up the nerve to go over there for close to three months by now, he could totally do it because his boss was telling him to all of a sudden. 

He could totally just walk over there and ask to sit for a few hours to draw whatever was on display for the day, then maybe tip the guy for his time and move on with his life. A few hours of drawing would totally be enough, right?

-

Mat was the epitome of Chill and Cool right up until the moment when he walked into the florist shop. It looked empty when he walked in, but when the bell rang, the guy jumped up from behind the counter with the register, his hair mussed and dusted with dirt and a few leaves. Mat thought this might be the place he died. “Hi!” the guy said brightly, his customer service smile in full effect. 

He glanced up with a furrow in his brow at the tuft of hair that had fallen in his face, a leaf dangling off of the strands, and quickly brushed it away, sending the leaf falling to the ground. Mat was still frozen in the doorway. 

“I’m Tito, what can I help you with?” Mat finally looked away from the guy— _Tito’s_ —face. His nametag had ‘Anthony’ printed on it in big block letters and Mat was very confused. Mat weakly held up the sketchpad he had brought with him, but no words came out of his mouth. The smile fell just enough from Tito’s face, and that sprang Mat back into action.

“I was looking for flowers,” he said finally, then winced at his own awkwardness. What the hell else would he be here for?

Tito laughed anyway. “You’re in the right place then. Are they for anyone special? A girlfriend? Boyfriend. . .?”

“Boyfriend, “ Mat blurted, blushing. “Or—um, that’s who I would be looking for flowers for. If I had one.” Tito blinked. “Which I don’t. I’m really looking to get them for my mom. No boyfriend in the picture.” Mat had to shove his hand in his pocket to quell the overwhelming urge to slap himself in the face. He needed to snap the fuck out of it. 

Tito’s smile was back in full force though, and he was making his way toward the fridges in the back of the shop. “Perfect. Are they just because?” Mat nodded as he looked around the shop without registering what Tito was asking. Tito hummed and glanced over his choices.

The shop was full of flowers and plants, everywhere that Mat looked, every surface was covered in plant life. And look, Mat _knew_ this was a florist; he knew that was the point, but there was so much going on in such a small space Mat was itching to get his pencil out and just draw. 

Tito turned around with a handful of flowers before Mat could speak with a bit more nerve with Tito’s back to him. He took them over to another counter next to the fridges and trimmed the stems before wrapping them up in plastic. 

“Orchids,” Tito explained, like he knew Mat didn’t know. “They stand for strength and love.”

Mat nodded, “How much do I owe you?”

-

Ebs burst out laughing when Mat got back to the tattoo shop exactly fifteen minutes after he had left, his sketchpad untouched and with the addition of a bouquet of orchids that would be dead by the time they got to his mom on the other side of the fucking continent. 

“Barz, you’re fucking hopeless.”

-

Mat _was_ fucking hopeless. See: his newly formed habit of visiting Tito under the pretense of buying flowers for his mom at least once every two weeks. And it was most certainly a problem. Everytime Mat walked by the shop now, if Tito was by the window and noticed Mat, he would wave. Sometimes, Mat got the nerve to go in and say hi. Those were the instances he came out of it with flowers. 

That itself wasn’t the problem. Mat was slowly learning more and more about Tito the more he stopped by, and Mat was honestly only falling harder in the past month and a half. It also definitely wasn’t a problem that Mat was actually getting better at realistic flowers in just a month of work with the arrangements from Tito. Sure, it wasn’t in the way he anticipated, but Mat got home every night and spent hours at a time sometimes just sketching the same piece over and over again until he got it exactly right. 

The problem was that Mat’s apartment was filling up with more flowers than he could handle, now. And as it turned out, he was allergic to a lot of what Tito gave him. So now, an entire section of his already too small living room had been roped off for the flowers so Mat wasn’t sneezing every five seconds while he was just trying to make dinner or go to sleep. 

_Calla lilies for beauty, gerber daisies for happiness, tulips for comfort and happiness_ , it was all so wholesome, the kind of care Tito put into each arrangement he was giving Mat to give to his mom, Mat felt bad that his mom wasn’t actually getting any of them. 

-

Mat had just finished a piece about two months after this whole thing had started (no flowers involved, thank you very much, Ebs), when he saw Tito come in from his station at the back of the studio. Without even a second thought, Mat just panicked and dove behind his chair.

It wasn’t his best moment. 

Kieffer was giving him weird looks from his station next to Mat’s, but fuck Kieffer, this was borderline a crisis. In all of the times Mat and Tito had talked, and as familiar they had managed to become with each other, Mat had never seen him outside of the florist. 

Ebs came back from where he had gone up to greet Tito and found Mat cowering behind his chair and gives him the same look Kieffer had just wrapped up with. Fuck Ebs, too, then. 

“He wants to see you, dumbass,” Ebs said, crossing his arms. “He said he wanted to know how your mom liked the flowers from last week. I think he has something else for you, too?”

Mat gave an aborted look of panic over to the drawers where he kept all of his tools. He had left Tito’s most recent bouquet from two days ago there. They were pretty pathetic looking now, perched precariously on the corner of the drawers in one of Mat’s old Starbucks cups. He had meant to bring them home yesterday but his station was still pretty bare and tulips were easy to draw in his down time at the studio. 

(“Venti iced heartbreak for angsty teen,” Ebs had called from the front of the shop when Mat had put the flowers in the cup. Mat was still figuring out how to get back at him.)

Mat got up after a quick pep talk to himself, and walked up to see Tito with minimal teasing from the boys. He knew he was in for it as soon as Tito left. 

Mat had it all planned. He was going to give the exact same answer that he always did, “Yeah, my mom loved them, I don’t think it’s possible for you to come up with a _bad_ arrangement, dude.”

Tito bought it, again, his smile bright, then picked up another bundle of flowers from the counter between them. “I actually have another one for her. I know it kinda breaks with our routine, but—yeah,” he said, still staring at the flowers. Mat was doing the same. “They’re pink roses. For appreciation.”

Mat nodded, “She’ll love them, too.”

“And—here, I had something for you, too,” Tito continued, pulling a single rose yellow rose with red tips from the bouquet, then handing it right to Mat. 

He was too speechless to say anything besides a choked out thank you, then Tito was leaving with a shy smile before Mat realized he never told him what it stood for. 

Mat snatched the bouquet of the other roses off the counter where Tito left them, rushing back to his station and practically flinging the lid of his laptop open. “What the fuck?” Ebs asked, coming over to Mat’s station while he typed, _yellow rose red tips meaning_ into google. 

Ebs might have said something else, but Mat didn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears when every single result he found said _falling in love_. “I need to go,” he said, shutting his laptop and striding back out the door without waiting for a response. Tito’s single rose was still in his hand. 

“I have a confession to make,” Mat said the second he had the door of the florist open. Tito looked up abruptly from where he was holding and talking with a little girl, and Mat’s mouth went dry. 

“I’m with a customer, but I’ll be right with you?” Tito asked, still smiling as he pointed to a man a few feet away from him who was looking over the displays that were set out. “This is Amanda,” he said, his smile cautious now.

“We’re picking out flowers for Mom, right Dad?” she said, looking over to the man. He glanced up and hummed his agreement.

“Did you like your rose?” Tito asked quietly as he came up to Mat who was still hovering in the doorway. He was still stuck on the look Tito had in his eyes while he was talking to a kid who wasn’t even _his._

He managed to nod anyway, “That’s why I’m here actually.” Tito looked up at him with a hopeful expression. Mat didn’t know what to say to reassure him, so he just grinned back and nodded. Tito beamed, only glancing away when the girl’s dad stood up with a bouquet in his hand. 

Mat wandered over toward the succulents while Tito rang him up, and a few minutes later, they were alone in the shop. 

“So, my rose.”

“Your rose,” Tito agreed, coming back around the counter to stand in front of Mat. 

“Yeah—I do have a confession to make, first.” Tito nodded. “My mom hasn’t gotten any of the flowers you’ve been putting together for her. That was just my excuse to come in and talk to you, really. Actually—that’s not true either. The first time I came in here, I had a sketch pad. I was supposed to come in and ask to sit and draw for a few hours because two months ago I was absolute shit at realistic flowers. But then I was so nervous, I panicked and didn’t want to say that I had a boyfriend or anything and-”

“Mat,” Tito interrupted with a laugh. “Mat, what the hell? Where have you been putting all of the flowers then?”

Mat blushed, “They’ve been taking up a corner of my living room for the past two months. Turns out I’m allergic to a lot of what you gave me so I had to quarantine a whole section off.”

Tito kept laughing. “You’re kidding me. And you kept coming back? How much money have you wasted on flowers just to let them sit in your apartment and make you miserable?”

“I don’t think I’ve _wasted_ any money at all,” Mat said. That was the first smooth line he’d come up with in front of Tito in weeks. He was proud of it. “It wasn’t the way I had imagined, but it got me an in with you, so, no, I haven’t wasted any money. Especially not if your rose means what I think it does.”

Tito’s smile softened. “I realized as soon as I left that I didn’t tell you what the colors stood for.”

“I got there on my own,” Mat shrugged, taking a step toward Tito. “Is there a flower for ‘will you go to dinner with me?’” 

Tito hummed, glancing over to his flowers. “I could probably come up with something. Maybe iris. Definitely roses-”

“Tito. Can it wait until after I kiss you?” Mat laughed, fondness at Tito getting distracted by flowers seeping into his tone.

Tito beamed again, nodding before one of Mat’s hands come to rest on his hip to inch him closer. The other came up to tip his chin up just that little bit so his mouth could reach Mat’s. Tito’s lips were a little chapped, and Mat ran his tongue along Tito’s bottom lip, careful. Tito pulled away some time later, when they were less kissing and more just pressing their smiles together. “I wonder if I have any red carnations for that bouquet.”

Mat huffed, too fond for anything else as he pressed his forehead against Tito’s. “Just don’t put anything that I’m allergic to in it. Can’t have me sneezing while I’m trying to woo you.”

“I’m sure I can make it work, considering I’ll get a date at the end of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Clouds" by New Politics


End file.
